


when he comes home

by mickleborger



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickleborger/pseuds/mickleborger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any father would be proud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when he comes home

Mama says that papa is gone to the Aetheon Cluster for a week.  Something about a summit, she says, but says no more.  Papa mentioned a word - 'bureaucrats', I think - and I don't know what it means but he sounded unhappy.  He left me with some model starships to play with; he says he expects to return to find me cataloguing tactics.  Mama says he isn't serious.  I try anyway.

When papa comes home he takes a look at my cruisers all piled together and chuckles, lifting me up.  He tells me I'm growing up so fast.

\---

My mom says that my dad's off to Terminus on a scouting cruise, and she can't keep the worry out of her voice.  I say I've never been to Terminus; my dad says he'll be fine.  She gives us both the sort of look she gives me when I complain about chores, only different.  My dad warns me that he expects a full military report on the behavior of the garden plants by his return, and I laugh, and mom does not stop giving us that look.

When my dad comes home it is winter and I can almost see over the windowsill into the empty garden.  He tells me he knows I was not this big when I left, and asks what in the world I've been eating.  I tell him what we're having for supper.

\---

Mom's complaining about the length of dad's stay at the Citadel.  It's one thing when you go out on patrol, she says; what could they possibly need you for over _there_?

Dad jokes about fish getting loose in the Presidium lake and winks at me.  I look down at my class notes and try not to laugh, and when it doesn't work I feel like mom's eyes might roll out of her head.

It's only a couple of weeks, dad says, and then I can get back to doing actual work.  Placated politicians are quiet politicians.

When dad comes home he rests a hand on my shoulder, contemplating my history book.  He glances at the top of my head, in line with his chin, and says nothing.

\---

I've spoken to my mother about this; I suspect father with approve, but with her I'm never sure.  Her gaze wasn't exactly readable but there was pride mixed in with the concern in her subvocals, and she held me close and called me son-of-mine.  I might have her support after all.

When father comes home - from half a year on a posting - he looks for a very long time at my first assignment in silence.  Then he looks back up at me and I can't sort the expressions on his face or the feelings in his voice but he clasps my hand and tells me I've grown so much.

\---

The last time I spoke with my mother was before they hit Menae, well before.  She had mentioned going to visit family in another system, since her own house was empty now.  I think she's well.  I hope she's well.  There wouldn't really be time to mourn otherwise.

The rock here has been more char than granite for many years now and I hate the way the air tickles my nose.  There's no green that I can see and the sun never, _ever_ stops beating.  There are things screaming all around us, flitting from shadow to shadow, coming ever closer; my men do not scream.  One of them might have when the ship went down.  Maybe it was me.  I can't remember.  Our voices are all hoarse anyway, our throats parched.  There is dust in my eyes.

I'm thinking of that time my father took a look at a fight I was staging between a handful of valiant toys and told me off for making one group run a full-frontal assault on the other.  Sneak around, he'd said; without strategy you've already lost.

But even with a good strategy you can lose, I'd answered.  I must have been eight, or somewhere close.  I don't remember what he said in reply.  I keep going over it in my head, looking for something, anything - but nothing.  There's nothing but gunfire and an alarm and a sudden knowing.

When papa comes home, I will not be there.


End file.
